The Clever Freak
by ArisBlack
Summary: Harry is clever, but also, he's a freak. He's quick to learn, so how he is going to deal with having to hide that?
1. Chpt 1: School and Trouble

This is my first fanfiction, ever, so please, bear with me for the not so good quality, and please leave a review with some constructive criticism if possible. This is not an entire chapter, just a bit of one, so that I can see what needs improving. Thanks for reading.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, or his world. That belongs to J.K Rowling, and I am most certainly not her. I am only playing in the playground she has created.

Edit 14/01/16: Today we have lost a very talented actor, one who will be sorely missed by me, and all the rest of us. I have genuinely spent three hours curled up in a ball and crying about his death. Rest in peace, Alan Rickman.

* * *

Harry sat in the very back of the class, the only one on his table of four. He was left well alone after his cousin had scared everyone away. The others were still working on the sheet about the alphabet that Mrs Day, his kindly Year 3 teacher had given them. He of course had already finished, but huddled over the paper with his pencil, nothing more than a stub, giving the impression that he was still working. From his position, he could see everyone, and the looks they sent back at him every so often, laughing at his old clothes and taped up glasses. Once the last person had put their pencil down, always his cousin Dudley, he waited until Dudley turned around to put his pencil down, pretending that he'd just finished. He knew that if it seemed like he'd finished before Dudley, break would be a game of not so fun (for him at least) hide and seek. He checked to see if he still had his book, the one he had found on the bookshelf in the morning.

He fiddled with his pencil stub and started looking at the worksheet. When Mrs Day allowed them to start the worksheet, he knew all the answers, and for him, it was just a case of filling it in. He was so focused on his work that he didn't spot the commotion happening at the front of the classroom. Two girls were laughing at something one of them had said, and Mrs Day banished one of them to the timeout chair. The timeout chair was, predictably, one of the chairs on Harry's table. One of the girls, Aria, stood up and sauntered over to him, and sat down, arms crossed in front of her and a small pout on her face. Her face brightened as an idea came to her. Quickly looking at Dudley to make sure he wasn't looking, she poked Harry. He flinched, and turned to face her. "Why aren't you listening to Mrs Day?" she whispered. He flinched again, and turned to face the front, watching what Mrs Day was writing on the board. She poked him again. "Talk to me." He didn't look at her. "Pwease?" She pushed her lower lip out into a pout. "I was listening." He mumbled under his breath. "I don't believe you." She leaned back. "I was!" He said a bit louder. "What's she talking about then?" She challenged him. "She's teaching us about prefixes. And she's just moved on to suffixes." Aria checked the board. "Well done." She looked down and saw the book. "Ooh, what are you reading?" He reddened and tried to hide it. "Nothing." He mumbled. "That's not true." She made a grab for it. He turned and tried to yank it away, but not before she saw the title. "You're reading 'The BFG'? Have you read any of Roald Dahl's other books? He's my favourite author at the moment. I'm reading 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' at the moment. It's soo good." She finally paused for breath and saw him looking slightly scared of her ramble. "I like Roald Dahl too." He finally said after a moment. "I've read 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory'. It's really good, but my favourite is 'James and the Giant Peach'."

Soon they were both engaged in a conversation about books, and their authors. Unknown to them, Dudley turned around to glare at his cousin, and found him talking. He grew angry, no one was allowed to talk to the freak, he was a freak, he was nothing. Sooner than they would have liked, the bell rang, signalling the beginning of break. Aria leapt up. "It was nice talking to you." She turned and ran after her best friend, leaving Harry behind. Harry followed the rest of his class out, and immediately headed to the bigger climbing frame. He held his book in one hand and scrambled up the ladder with his other. Finally he got to the top and wandered over to one of the random corners. He sat down and opened his book, getting absorbed in someone's else life. All too soon, he heard the bell ring and slid down the pole to join the rush of kids running to line up. He was last, as normal, to keep out of sight of Dudley and his cronies. He quickly hid the book under his over large shirt; in the crush of people, nobody saw him slip the book under his shirt for safekeeping.

They all filed into the classroom, some hanging around the coat racks, most just moving to their seats, Harry included. He carefully slipped the book from under his shirt and onto the table next to him, and looked for Aria. His eyes widened as he realised she wasn't there. Nor was Dudley, or the rest of his gang. In fact, there were several people missing. He shuddered and decided to keep his head down and try to ignore it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Aria sat next to her best friend in the headmaster's office, with tears welling up in her eyes as she held her hand to her cheek where there was a purple bruise blooming. Dudley and his gang were sat on the opposite side of the table, glaring at her. There were also quite a few more kids in the office, making it rather crowded. The headmaster entered, sat down, and sighed. He asked, "What happened?" Aria said, whimpering, "I...I was just playing on the tires, and then Dudley came up to me and... and punched me!" The headmaster asked, "Just Dudley?" Aria's best friend, Cecilia, answered for her, holding her hand to her own bruise, "No Mr Williams. There was Piers and the rest of that group." Mr Williams nodded thoughtfully. "Do you know why they did it?" he asked. Both of them hesitated and Aria shot a frightened look at Dudley before they both shook their heads.

Mr Williams turned to Dudley. "Why did you hit them?" he asked sternly. Dudley being an idiot with more fat cells than brain cells answered with, "Because they were talking to the freak." Mr Williams' face hardened. "Who is 'the freak'? We have no freaks in this school." Dudley, not recognising the danger, plowed straight on. "The freak is the freak. His name is.." here his face scrunched up with the effort of trying to remember his cousin's name. "His name is Harry? I think?" Mr Williams straightened suddenly. "Harry? Harry Potter?" Dudley nodded stupidly. "Very well. Aria and Cecilia, you may go to the nurse. Dudley, Piers and the rest of you lot, go wait outside this office in silence, and I will talk to the rest of you about exactly what happened."

* * *

Later, after school, Harry was walking home, by himself as usual, looking out for Dudley, only to find him missing. He trembled, and decided to hurry back to see where Dudley was. As soon as he stepped inside the front door, he was greeted with a blow and sent back outside to enter through the back door. Aunt Petunia grabbed his ear and dragged him into the living room where Uncle Vernon was waiting. His face was red, rapidly turning to purple as he greeted his nephew with a bellow. "YOU ARE A BURDEN UPON THIS FAMILY! YOU FREAK! YOU GOT DUDLEY IN TROUBLE FOR PUNCHING SOMEONE! HE WAS CALLED TO THE HEADMASTER! DO YOU KNOW HOW THIS WILL LOOK TO THE NEIGHBOROURS?" He punctuated each sentence with a punch to his nephew. After Harry fell to the floor, he started kicking him. Harry had no concept of time; he only felt the pain of the kicks to his stomach, and once he felt a rib crack. Once Vernon had had his fill of abusing his nephew, he dragged him to the cupboard and threw him in and locked the door. Harry lay on his cot, unconscious, and slowly, the extensive bruises to his abdomen and the cracked rib began to heal.


	2. Chpt 2: Light

I know last time, I said that I thought no one was still reading this, and I am so glad that you guys proved me wrong. So thank you so much. I will try to be better with updating. Sorry that this chapter is quite a bit shorter than the other one. I'm still gonna work on it.

Also, my plan. This is the last chapter with Harry this age. There will be a time jump, with Harry being about 9 in Chapter 3, and then another time jump to right before Harry gets his Hogwarts letter for Chapters 4 and 5. There shouldn't be any other significant time jumps after that.  
 **Please review** as well!

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke up to the sound and smell of breakfast cooking. He scrambled off his cot and pushed on the door of his dark cupboard, trying to get out and finish the cooking before he was punished for laziness. To his confusion, the door didn't budge. He pushed again, but it seemed to be locked. He started to panic, and pressed against the door again as dust fell down from above him as someone thundered down the stairs.

The footsteps stopped outside the cupboard door. Harry moved back onto his cot and huddled into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible, wondering what Uncle Vernon, for it could only be Uncle Vernon, would do. The small shutter clicked open and his uncle's face pressed up against the grille, a nasty grin only barely visible.

"You'll stay in there until I say otherwise, freak. You won't be going back to school for a long, long while." With that, the shutter clicked closed again, and Harry heard the footsteps retreating to the kitchen.

He covered himself with his blanket, deciding to accept the punishment, if only because he couldn't do anything else. A spider fell in front of him, but he could barely see it in the darkness of his cupboard. The shutter in the cupboard was closed, meaning that the only light was that which came through the gap between the bottom of the door and the door as the light bulb in the cupboard had blown a year ago. He wished for light, anything to be able to see more than a few centimetres in front of him. As he focused on that wish, a ball of yellow light suddenly appeared in front of him. The sight of it startled him, and it immediately disappeared.

However, in the split second that the light had been there, he had seen more of his cupboard than he had seen in a year. He closed his eyes, and focused on the wish for light again. Opening his eyes, he stared at his hand, and saw it start to glow. Slowly, the light started to brighten and lift off his hand. Soon there was a ball of light hovering in front of him. He moved his hand away from the ball and it stayed where it was, and he smiled, and forgot he was locked in his cupboard. An idea suddenly came to him and he lifted his other hand. This time, he focused on the image of the light ball and the feeling that had rushed up his arm, through his hand and out his palm. Sooner than last time, light started to glow and he had yet another light ball. He lay down on his bed and moved his hand slightly, moving one ball, then moving his other hand and moving the other. Soon he had both dancing through the air, and figured out how to move them without moving his hands.

Footsteps outside his cupboard quickly had him extinguishing the light. He lay frozen on his bed as the heaviest footsteps paused outside briefly before moving on. Once he had heard the front door close shut behind all three of the Dursleys, he relaxed and called up the light balls again. Throughout the day, he focused on adding more and more balls into his cupboard and controlling them until he could no longer distinguish between each individual one because there were so many. He saw into every nook and cranny of his cupboard, even those which he hadn't seen while he the light bulb had still been working. When he got bored of them being so bright, he decided to see if he could try and dim them. He got rid of all but one, and then focused on dimming it. The first time, he dimmed it too much and it disappeared, but slowly, he got the hang of it. The next time he started adding more of the light balls he added them at different brightnesses.

When he heard the door open and footsteps coming in he slowly started to make them disappear one by one until only one was left. It was only when he heard the distinctive steps of his uncle enter the house that he extinguished the final one and he was left in darkness once again.

It was then that he realised just how hungry he was. He smelt the spaghetti bolognese that was apparently tonight's dinner, and his stomach whined at how nice it smelt. When he heard the Dursleys eating, the smell of food seemed to become even more tempting. He waited patiently for the small amount of bread and cheese that was his usual fare at dinner, but even after his uncle and aunt watched TV and were getting ready for bed, it didn't come. They went up to bed and he was crouched at the door of his cupboard, not giving up hope for food, but after a long while, he accepted that it wasn't coming, and tried to sleep. His stomach kept him up for a long while, but in the end, he drifted into an uneasy sleep.


	3. Chpt 3: Intelligence and Drawing

Hi everyone, this is Chpt 3, and as said before, Harry is 9 in this. I thought I may as well write this, because it ain't gonna write itself. Also, I'm really sorry about this, because I honestly have no idea where it came from. It wasn't in my original plan, but then again, my stories never follow their plan. Have fun with this, and remember, **please review**!

* * *

Harry lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling where he was drawing with a crayon. But he wasn't using his hands, to do it; he was using what he had decided to call magic, because there was really no other name for it. He could see what he was doing courtesy of the four light balls he had hovering in the top corners of his cupboard. He finished with the black crayon he was using and moved on to the grey. His entire cupboard was covered with what he had recently become obsessed with; animals and flowers. 

Even his school work at school was starting to reflect that. His Year 5 teacher always made them write something based on a prompt every morning for the first twenty minutes, and he almost always made it something to do with animals. He had become particularly good at drawing dogs, wolves, lions, and for some reasons, stags and eagles. He drew the occasional snake or badger, and of course flowers. While sitting in the school library one day, he had found an abandoned empty notebook and had stolen it. It was now completely filled with his drawings, and he continued to look at them and edit them. 

One day, while looking over his drawings, he had traced his finger over one, a stag, and to his surprise, it had started to move. It had pranced around the page, before stopping once in the middle, and then beginning to move about more freely. Excited, he had then started to flip through his book, before finding a picture of a lily. Tracing a finger over it, he silently gasped as it began to sway, as if in a light breeze. He had gone through his entire book, tracing each drawing and watching as they began to move. 

Now he quickly dropped the crayon and snuffed out the lights in less than a second as his aunt rapped on the door. 

"Quickly. Get up!" his aunt screeched. "Don't let the bacon burn." He heard her move away and stayed on his cot for a second more before sighing and opening his cupboard door. His ribs twinged slightly in memory of the beating they had taken the night before. 

Rolling his shoulders, he moved into the kitchen and over to the cooker where there were two frying pans going, one with bacon and the other with eggs. 

"Did you know that bacon is actually really bad for you?" he muttered under his breath while frying the bacon. He quickly looked over his shoulder but no one was in the room with him so he sighed with relief. The bacon finished and he put all of it on a plate before moving on to the eggs. Before they came in, he quickly levitated the table mats, plates and cutlery onto the table so he could focus on doing the food and not have to rush around the table like he used to have to. 

Soon all three of the Dursleys were sitting around the table and eating. Dudley was stuffing food in his mouth, and spilling half of it back onto the table. Harry was honestly surprised that he didn't take up a whole side of the square table yet. However, Harry was constantly kept busy cooking more food for the bottomless pit that Dudley was. He was still a bit short for the cooker, being an extremely short nine year old, so he was constantly on his tiptoes and trying not to burn himself. He knew there was no real danger of himself being burned, but he had to keep up the act for the Dursleys, because if any of them even suspected him of using magic then he wouldn't see the light of day for a very long time. It was an instinct ingrained in him from a very young age, and as he fell in to the rhythm of cooking eggs, he remembered the first day he had been punished for using magic. 

_Flashback_

 _Harry was in the classroom, trying to work on his worksheet. Ever since Aria had left, the classroom was quieter, more subdued. It was all the Dursleys fault. Dudley had bullied her so much that even the rest of the class couldn't protect her. In the end, it had gotten so bad that it had forced Aria to leave, and there were rumours going around that her parents had changed her name. Her best friend was now known as the girl who was friends with rocks, because it had been Aria who was friends with everyone, not her._

 _All of a sudden, he realised that he had been gripping his pen tightly, and he raised his head in an effort to calm himself down. A second later, he knew that that was the wrong thing to do as Dudley turned around at that exact moment._

" _Hey freak," his cousin called. "Do you even know how to write?"_

 _Even though there was no relevance to the current situation, Harry became irrationally angry as he saw the person who had driven away the only person who had even come close to befriending him. He glared at him, and then, Dudley yelped. He stood up abruptly and everyone saw the pink pig's tail burst through the tail of his trousers. Dudley could barely turn far enough to see the tail, and then he fainted. It took three of them to drag him to the nurse's office, and after his aunt and uncle had returned from bringing their darling Dudders to the hospital, he had gotten the worst beating of his life while his uncle ranted about his freakishness, and how he was determined to beat it out of him._

 _End Flashback_

He quickly snapped out of his flashback, barely in time to avoid tripping over Dudley's foot. Finally, it seemed that even Dudley could eat no more, so he started washing up the frying pans and the plates. 

He heard them all thunder out of the room, and Dudley immediately started complaining that he couldn't find that one particular really short pencil that was absolutely required. He began to throw a tantrum, only for it to be found on the table near the front door. Harry finally finished the washing up, and retreated to his cupboard to gather his meagre supply of school stuff and continue drawing. Once he heard Dudley's footsteps leave the house, he finished the flower he was currently drawing, an iris, before leaving as well.


	4. Chpt 4: Mail

Hi, so I know I've been away for a while, but here you go. Another completed chapter. You have Branchkk to thank for this, as they actually helped with my writer's block. Thank you, also, to the rest of you who reviewed. One quick question. Do you guys think my chapters are too short? I've been considering combining some of them, and I could also write longer ones if you wanted me to. It would just mean that there would be longer between chapters. I dunno. It was just a thought.

Have fun, and **please review!  
**

* * *

Harry laid on his bed, looking at all of the drawings around him. While he had continued drawing, the number he did had slowed down considerably. However, he never ran out of space, which he attributed to magic. With a flick of his hand, a clock appeared, displaying the time, 23:59:55, and the date, 30/07/91. He counted down the seconds, and when the clock struck twelve, he wrote in the air, 'Happy Birthday Harry'. At that point, he had no idea how important the coming day would be. With his yearly ritual over, he extinguished the lights and the clock, rolled over wincing, and fell asleep.

The next morning, he was woken by his aunt rapping on the door of his cupboard. "Wake up!" her shrill voice echoed through the door. "Get up."

He lay in bed for a minute more, singing Happy Birthday quietly to himself, before rolling off his bed and walking out of his cupboard.

He quickly started breakfast, before his aunt decided that he was being too slow. The eggs were on the table, and the bacon and sausages well on their way before his cousin managed to waddle into the dining room, passing him on the way. Dudley paused, and then shoved Harry into the pan, and burning his wrist on the gas in the process.

"Don't let the sausages burn, freak." His cousin spat, before continuing on his way.

Harry glared at his back for a while before turning his attention back to the sausages, just in time to take them off the heat. The pain from his burn finally filtered in, and he quickly pushed his magic down his arm to his wrist to heal it. The pain subsided quickly, and he carried the plates full of food to the other room. Just as he returned to the kitchen, the post came through the door. He quickly walked to get it, and picked it up. He flicked through it, to see if there was anything of interest, and saw a letter, addressed to:

Mr H Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

He froze, surprised. No mail had ever arrived for him before. However, he quickly snapped back into motion and on his way back to the dining room, paused to slip the letter under his cupboard door. There was no way he was going to take the first letter he had ever received to the Dursleys. He continued to the dining room and silently handed the mail to his uncle before returning to the kitchen to continue making more food.

After accidentally letting his mind wander to the letter hidden in his cupboard for a second too long, he noticed the sausages were burnt, the tiniest bit. He quickly loaded them onto a plate and brought it out to his uncle and cousin. Slipping back into the kitchen, he thought for a brief second that he had managed to get away with it. However, luck was not on his side that day, and before he knew it, he had been shoved back into his cupboard. His uncle was bellowing in his ear all the while about how he was an ungrateful freak and how he couldn't perform even the simplest of tasks.

He heard his uncle stomp away, and growl at his aunt to only let him out for chores, and no other time. He was apparently, not to be allowed food, and to only have one bathroom break. Sighing in resignation, he turned onto his back, and with a single thought, conjured his lights. A flick of his finger brought the envelope up to hover in front of him, and as he turned his finger, so the envelope rotated. He inspected the seal on the back of the envelope, and to his shock, a lion, snake, eagle and badger were depicted. Drawn exactly the same way he had been drawing those particular animals for the past two years. Eyes narrowing, he flicked his finger and opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper floated out. One seemed to be an acceptance letter of some sort, giving him a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Gobsmacked, he stared at the paper for a moment, before moving on to the second. It was a list of books and equipment, and all seemed to be magical. He soon disregarded it and moved back to the first piece.

There was one bit he puzzled over. 'We await your owl'? Was that jargon for post, or did they mean an actual owl? He knew that one of his chores today was gardening, so he would undoubtedly find out then. The reply could be no later than today, and he knew he would only have one chance outside, so he quickly ripped a piece of paper out of his precious notebook and started to write.

His final letter included an acceptance of his place in the school, and also politely asked for someone to help him find and buy his school stuff. He had barely finished writing the letter and had just tucked it under his shirt when the door to his cupboard was violently ripped open.

"Out, boy," his aunt snapped. "I want you out the door and pruning the hedge in less than a minute, do you hear me? Answer me, boy!"

Harry almost sighed, but then decided against it at the last moment. "Yes Aunt Petunia."

Giving his aunt a wide berth, he scrambled out of his cupboard, then through the kitchen and out the back door. He detoured to the shed to get the hedge trimmers. Discretely glancing about the garden to check if there was an actual owl, he almost gave up when he couldn't see one. However, when he got to the hedge, he saw one sitting on the wall on the opposite side. The owl looked up at him, and clicked its beak impatiently. Harry decided to break habit and start from the outside of the hedge first, and on his way round, 'accidentally' tripped and the letter flew out from the waistband of his trousers. The owl caught the letter in its beak and then flew away. Harry stared at the owl flying away from him in shock, but then started pruning the hedges before his aunt realised that he wasn't working and decided to punish him.

For the rest of the day, the thought of, 'What if that school is real? What happens then?' kept spinning around in his head. He debated the likelihood of it being a sick practical joke of the Dursleys, then realised that it had been far too complicated and besides, they had never seen his drawings or seen him perform magic. When he was chucked back into his cupboard at the end of the day, he spent the night rereading all the books that he had ever read that mentioned magic.


	5. Chpt 5: Machinations and Revelations

Hello all! I know that this has been a long time in coming, and it's not a complete chapter, but I felt that since it had been so long, you deserved something. I'll try to complete this this week, and start the next chapter. I'll have a bit more time, as it's half term for me. When this chapter is completed depends on when my writer's block finally gives way. Hopefully that'll be soon.

 **Edit:** The next chapter is being written, but it won't be out until I'm most of the way through Chpt 7, which may be a while. I've decided to only give you guys a new chapter when I've got most of the next written, just so that if I get writer's block again, I'll have something to give you guys.

Also, I'm really sorry that this is moving slowly. Next chapter is McGonagall seeing Harry's treatment.

Thank you to all of you who reviewed and gave me suggestions when I asked for help.

As always, have fun reading this, and please **review**!

* * *

Dumbledore sat in his office, mulling over the piece of paper he held in his hands. It was Harry Potter's acceptance letter, and it asked for help to get to Diagon Alley. He was slightly puzzled; surely the Dursleys' had told him about his family, and the Wizarding World. They should be willing to take him there shouldn't they? Petunia at least would know where it was. Well, it didn't matter, in fact it was better. If he didn't know how to get there, chances were he didn't know much about the Wizarding World either. Which was even better, because it followed his plan. Hence Hagrid was the best option.

With Hagrid introducing the boy to their world, it would ensure that he got a Light view of the world, and dear Hagrid would also warn him away from the Dark. His plan was rolling along quite nicely.

He debated whether or not to use his Patronus to send the message to Hagrid or just wait until dinner when they would all be eating together in the Great Hall. He decided it would be better to send the Patronus. He absentmindedly cast the spell and sent it off with a short message for Hagrid. Almost immediately however, another Patronus returned. He looked up in shock. Hagrid hadn't learned the Patronus charm. The Patronus opened its mouth and began to speak in Madame Pomfrey's voice.

"Albus, I'm afraid Hagrid is in no state to go visit young Mr Potter. He was swarmed by Blood Sucking Bugbears, and even though he is hardy, that also means he won't be up and about for a while. May I suggest sending someone else?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and sighed. This called for a slight change of plan. Now, who to send? Severus was immediately out; he wouldn't give a very good impression of their world. Minerva was his second choice. She was strict, and Light. She would do a good job of introducing the boy to the wonders of the world and again, would warn him away from the Dark.

He sent off another Patronus to her, and soon received a positive reply. Satisfied, he glanced over at the silver instruments he had checking on the boy and continued with his work.

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry was again slaving away in the garden. It was a particularly warm month, and August looked to be warm as well. With a lack of rain, keeping the garden looking nice and green was a struggle. That meant he spent more time outside than he would have liked. With that and having to do all the household chores meant that he was subtly using magic more than he would have liked. The number of times he had almost been caught was far too high for his liking, but it was better than being punished for not finishing his chores. In the garden, he infused each plant with a little bit of magic just to keep them going a little longer than they would have without it. It wasn't much though, so he still had to tend them manually.

Soon however, he was finished, and before he put the hose away, he took the opportunity to drink some water. He hadn't had any for the entire day, and he was starting to feel a little bit dehydrated. All too soon however, he had to go inside to complete the indoor list of chores he had received that morning. That list included cleaning the entire house, including the bathroom and Dudley's precious bedroom by hand. It was not a task he was looking forward to.

Eventually, the most unpleasant of his chores was finished, and he was shoved back into his cupboard. He stayed there and drew until his aunt dragged him out to prepare the dinner.

As he was cooking, he glanced up and out of the kitchen window. A tabby cat was sat on the window, with markings around its eyes reminiscent of glasses. 'Strange', he thought. 'I don't recognise this cat, and I know every single one of Mrs Fig's cats. She's the only one who has cats in this neighbourhood.' He quickly shook his head to clear it and continued making dinner for the Dursleys.

Later that night, he snuck out of his cupboard and changed a blank piece of paper into a saucer. He filled it with some milk and quietly walked outside to place it next to the cat who was still sitting in the same place. As he petted the cat, his stomach rumbled. The cat froze, and then turned to look at him. An angry sort of meow escaped it, and he attempted to placate it.

"Shh.." he whispered. "I'm fine, really. And please don't be too loud, or I'll get in trouble."

The cat stared at him for a few seconds longer, and then returned to its milk. Once the cat had finished it off, he took the saucer back, and just as he went back inside, vanished it. The cat jumped off the window sill and lay in the flowerbed beneath it. Within a few minutes, all of the remaining awake inhabitants of Privet Drive were all fast asleep.

Sometime during the night, the cat woke up. It stretched, and then ran to the back of the house where it transformed into a woman. Minerva McGonagall looked at the house where Lily and James' son, the Boy-Who-Lived, stayed. There was no way she could call that living, not with the way he was obviously treated. She wasn't looking forward to meeting Petunia again, and from what she had heard from Lily and James, Petunia's husband, Vernon, sounded vile. However, at the moment there was nothing to be done. She would just have to see how bad it was tomorrow. And to be the one to introduce Harry back to their world! She would make sure he knew everything he needed to know. Perhaps she could bring him something nice. But right now, there was a bottle of firewhiskey with her name on it sitting in her quarters.


	6. Chpt 6: Discoveries

Sorry for the long wait everyone. As I said last time, I was going to finish Chpt 7 before I released this one. However, I've only finished half of Chpt 7. And half of Chpt 7 is the length of one of my normal chapters. So I decided to give this to you anyway. Next chapter is Diagon Alley, and I didn't really want to split it up. You're either gonna get a really long chapter(for me at least) or I'm going to have to split it up, because at 1,000 words, Harry hasn't even got his money yet. So yes. Fun times.

Please enjoy this. And as always, have fun, and **please review!  
**

* * *

The next morning, Minerva woke up early. After a quick breakfast, courtesy of the house elves, she walked out of Hogwarts and apparated back to 4 Privet Drive where she turned back into a cat and once again took up residence on the kitchen window sill. She sat there, staring in for an hour, before she spotted movement in the hall behind it. Harry, the poor boy, was shoved into the kitchen and hit the cooker. She just caught sight of a large whale sized man waddle away before the door slammed.

Harry caught himself on the cooker and smiled at her before turning the cooker on and beginning breakfast.

While cooking, he opened the window and gave her a saucer of water. She purred at him, and he petted her for a while, before realising that the breakfast was starting to burn. He closed the window again and removed the burnt pieces before carrying the food to the dining room. She didn't see him again, but heard a door slam, somewhere further in the house. Less than an hour later, after she had seen a baby whale emerge from the house, she found a private place to transform and change her clothes into something more muggle suitable.

The door was opened by someone who could only be described as a whale, a few minutes after she knocked.

"Hello," she said stiffly. "I'm here to talk to Harry Potter."

The whale began to go red. "No one named Harry Potter lives here."

She raised an eyebrow. "Our records clearly indicate that he does."

He frowned. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, teacher of Transfiguration, Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The red began to deepen. "We don't want any of your freakishness here! Stay away from my family. The freak- "he abruptly cut himself off.

"The freak?" she asked, coldly.

"No one." He tried to shut the door in her face, but she stuck her foot in its path and pushed through into the house.

Once the door had slammed shut behind her, she took out her wand. The whale's face began to turn a colour reminiscent of puce. "Point me Harry Potter" she murmured. Her wand swivelled to face the cupboard under the stairs. Ignoring the whale, she hurried to the cupboard and unlocked the door. The door popped open to show Harry curled up on his cot covered in his very thin blanket. Under it, she could see how thin he was, and there were many bloodstains covering the blanket, some of which seemed very recent. She knelt by the cot.

"Harry?" she asked in a quiet voice. His eyes opened slightly, and he flinched away, not saying anything.

"I'm here to help," she continued. His eyes widened, but he still didn't say anything. "I'm from Hogwarts." At that, he sat up properly.

"Are you here to take me to get the stuff in the letter?" he asked shyly.

She nodded. "Yes, I am."

He shakily stood from the bed. "I don't have any money though."

Her eyes widened minutely but she said, "It's no problem." She stood up and turned to the whale. "I'm taking him to London, and he'll be back tonight, probably. There will be no trouble from now on, unless you would like to know the consequences. Also, I shall expect him at Kings Cross at 10:30 on September 1, having been driven there by you. Understood?"

The fire in her eyes cowed Vernon slightly. "Understood." He nodded

She turned around to see Harry emerging from his cupboard, and was appalled at the state of his clothes. Just by the size of them, she could tell that they had probably once been worn by the baby whale, because she could not believe that Harry could have once been that fat. Her first priority was getting him out of the house and to Diagon Alley as quickly as possible. So she took out of the house to the back garden and told him to hold her arm.

"This may feel strange." She told him, and once she was sure he had a good grip, turned on the spot.

Harry felt as if he was being squeezed through a narrow tube, and felt his chest constricting. Just as he began to felt like he was suffocating, the tube started to widen, and then he met the floor. Face first. As he was helped back up, he asked, "What was that?"

The teacher helped him up off the floor and then replied, "That is called Apparation. It is one of the methods by which we witches and wizards travel. However, you can only learn it once you turn seventeen. I agree, it is not the most pleasant, but it is one of the fastest."

He nodded, fascinated, before turning to look at their surroundings. He immediately noticed that they were in a dark room full of tables and people sitting at those tables, and ducked his head and moved his hair over his eyes. McGonagall looked down at him and while frowning at his actions, also smiled fondly, resulting in a strange expression. However, she quickly wiped it off her face and then headed towards the door at the back of the pub, looking back to make sure Harry was following her.

She waved to Tom, the bartender when she was close enough, and he waved back with a cheery, "Hello, Professor McGonagall!"

Finally, they got through the crowd in the pub, and McGonagall opened the back door and let him through to the small courtyard with nothing but a bin and a wall. He watched her tap a brick, three up and two across from the bin, and then the wall started to move. First, a small hole, and then it started to widen and become an archway. When the wall had finished moving, he could see a street beyond it, bright with different colours and busy with people bustling about, and buying things.

McGonagall looked at his astonished face and said, "Welcome to Diagon Alley."


	7. Chpt 7: Diagon Alley

Hello again. Here is the next chapter, and this is when Harry goes shopping! I'm so sorry this is really late, but both my parents have been not feeling that great recently, so I'm having to do more housework than I'm used to doing. Also, as compensation, this is over 3,000 words, which is three times as much as normal.

Oh, and I has taken his wand buying experience from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. It's not directly copied, but it follows the same pattern and there are a few bits which I did take. It does not belong to me.

Please please please can we get me up to 25 reviews? Pretty please? You know I love you all right? Especially those who have reviewed already? I should reply to all of you, sorry I haven't been. I will do my best. **Please, for the love of the gods, I'm on 23 reviews. I only ask for two more. And I know that I have at least two different people view this story everyday. I only want you to say something, I don't even care if it's nice or mean. Just, two people? Please?**

But anyway, thank you, and enjoy.

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Harry's jaw dropped as he took in the sight. He looked up at Professor McGonagall. "This is where we buy my stuff?"

She looked down at him. "Yes. But first, I need to tell you something. You, Harry, are very famous in our world." But he was just Harry. He couldn't be famous. Otherwise, why didn't anyone ever come to find him? Fans of celebrities did that, didn't they? He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off.

"Your scar came from the event that made you famous. Your scar is your most recognisable feature. If we disguise it, no one will recognise you. The lightening bolt is what they use to recognise you. If not, all they'll see is a black haired, green eyed boy who is shopping for his school stuff. If they see the scar, you will be mobbed as people try to talk to the Saviour, or as you are more commonly known, the Boy-Who-Lived." He even had a title? This was getting better and better. He flinched a little when she knelt down next to him and brought her wand up to his forehead. She muttered something under her breath and then he felt a tingle run across his forehead. When she stood up, she looked down at him and nodded, apparently in approval. They started walking down the street and Harry thought he was going to strain his neck because he was turning it so quickly, trying to see everything.

His head snapped back to the Professor when she said, "Our first stop will be the bank, to get your money."

His shoulders sagged. "I don't have any money, though."

She looked at him. "How do you think your parents lived? Do you think they left all their money in their house when they died?"

He looked down in shame. "Aunt Petunia always said that my parents were lazy, good for nothings who probably lived off of government benefits and that they died in a car crash."

Because he was so focused on the cobblestones, he didn't notice her mouth falling open. She would show him the main Potter vault as well as his trust vault. She would have another talk with his relatives. Denying him the knowledge of his family? Disgraceful.

Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up. The Professor looked faintly angry. "Harry, we're going to go into the bank now, and you are going to find out that your parents very definitely did not live off government benefits." He was puzzled, but then was distracted by the goblins, he thought they were, who were stood in front of the great marble doors.

As they passed through the doors, they came to another set of double doors, with a poem inscribed on the side.

 _Enter stranger but take heed,_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed._

 _For those who take but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _If you seek beneath our floors,_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

That was ominous, but posed no direct threat to him at the moment, so he filed it away in his mind then proceeded to not think about it. When they emerged from that set of double doors, they came into a grand and opulent foyer. Everything was marble, and there were two lines of goblins. On his left, there was a counter that seemed to be separate from the others. The difference, he noted, was that there were people there who weren't wearing robes, and were instead wearing not-wizard clothes. He would have to find out the word for not-wizard. When he listened closely, he could hear them discussing Muggle currency, so he deduced that the word for not-wizard was Muggle. By that time, he found himself standing in front of a goblin counting rubies, and when he glanced further down the line, he saw others weighing and counting other gems of the same sort.

They waited in front of the counter for a few minutes, waiting for the goblin to finish what he was doing. When he was finally finished, he looked up at them. The Professor said, "We are here to withdraw some money."

The goblin asked brusquely, "Key?"

She immediately withdrew it. "If we may also access the Potter vault?"

"Do you have the key?"

She shook her head no. "But the heir is here and so would it be possible to have another made?"

The goblin considered him. Harry reminded himself not to flinch under his scrutiny.

"If the blood test confirms him to be the heir, then that will be possible."

Blood test? The magical world was strange.

The goblin scowled. "Prick your finger with this knife and then drop three, and only three, drops of blood on the paper."

He looked up uncertainly at the Professor, and she nodded at him encouragingly. He took the knife then pricked his finger. He squeezed his finger to get the blood out, and once he counted to three, stuck his finger in his mouth to heal it. The blood soon fanned out into ink, but before either of them could see it, the goblin snatched it up. He pressed a button on the table and a key materialised out of nowhere.

"Griphook!" the goblin called. A goblin scurried over. "Heir Potter and his companion would like to go down to his vaults. Take them." He handed the keys and paper over. Griphook bowed. "Follow me." He began to walk off, and both Harry and McGonagall followed.

They went through a small door at the back. Harry, who had been expecting more marble, was surprised at the utter lack of it. Griphook pulled a lever and a rickety cart sped towards them on the track that he had been about to walk onto.

"If we could please visit his trust vault before the main one?" McGonagall asked politely. Griphook grunted something that sounded like agreement. Once they were all in the cart, it sped off, and Harry had to grab on to the side because he felt like he was going to fall out. McGonagall saw him clutching the side and reassured him,

"It's perfectly safe, don't worry."

Somehow, he wasn't very reassured. Soon though, it stopped being scary and became somewhat fun. Well, as fun as hurtling on a very unsteady track a couple of hundred feet above a cavern floor at breakneck speed could possibly be. Suddenly, without any warning, they stopped. Harry slipped out of his seat, and crashed into the one in front of him, throwing himself to the floor. He winced as some of his as-yet unhealed injuries were hit. He recovered quickly though, and stepped out of the cart with the Professor and the goblin, Griphook, he thought he was called.

"Key?" Griphook asked tersely.

Harry silently handed it over and watched carefully as he inserted the key into the lock and the door swung open. He gasped at the amount of coins inside. There were mountains of gold, silver and bronze and he leaned in to have a better look. The Professor brought his attention back to her when she said,

"Just take some of each, preferably more of the Galleons. Those are the gold ones."

He looked at her.

"Where am I supposed to put all of the money?"

She withdrew a pouch from within her robes.

"This should be big enough."

He gingerly took it from her and began to fill the pouch. Once he had it near to bursting, he retreated from the vault, and they all went back to the cart. As soon as they were all in, the cart took off once again, and it felt like a long time before they stopped once again. Harry could have sworn that he had seen a dragon sometime during their journey.

This time when they reached the vault, Griphook beckoned him forward.

"Place your hand on the door. If you are really Harry Potter, the door will not react. If you are not, you will be sucked in through."

Harry glanced nervously over his shoulder at the Professor, who did nothing but nod at him encouragingly. After one last unsure glance at Griphook, he placed his hand on the door. When he wasn't sucked in, he let out a relieved breath. He stepped away from the door as Griphook brushed in front of him, and laid his own hand on the door. Just like the last vault, the door swung open gently. Harry nearly fainted at the sight of all the money and paintings, and jewellery and trunks and stuff that was inside the vault. Griphook turned to face him.

"Unfortunately," he sneered, "you are not allowed to retrieve anything from these vaults until either you are emancipated or you come of age. However, you will receive monthly updates on your vaults, and you have the option to recall all existing keys. Would you like to do that?"

Harry nodded, as even without looking at the Professor, he could tell that that was a very good idea indeed. Griphook pressed a button near the door.

"That is done. Now, let us go back."

Once again, Harry experienced what in his opinion, was the best rollercoaster experience of his life. Considering he had never been on a rollercoaster, that wasn't saying much. All too soon, they reached the top and got out. Griphook ushered them back into the main reception hall and they left.

When they were stood on the steps outside Gringotts, Harry looked up at the Professor.

"Where are we going next?" he asked.

She took a quick look around the Alley before answering, "Madam Malkins. You need your school robes as well as some other casual robes. After that, we'll go to Potage's Cauldron shop, then Slug & Jiggers, the apothecary to get your potions ingredients. Their ingredients are always quite good. After that, we'll have to make a quick detour into Carkitt Market to Stowe & Packer's Magical Bags. You'll need something to carry all your stuff in, and your trunk for school. Then Scribbulus Writing Instruments and then, after that Wiseacre Wizarding Equipment. You will of course need a pet, so we can decide whether you want to go to Eeylop's Owl Emporium or the Magical Menangerie then. We can then decide whether we want to go to Ollivander's or Flourish and Blotts next."

Harry absorbed all the information and so they headed to Madam Malkins. The bell rang as he stepped into the shop, and almost immediately, a woman rushed over.

"Hello dear, I'm Madam Malkins." The woman said. "Are you here for your Hogwarts robes?" He nodded. "That's perfect I have a young man in here as well."

She ushered him into a room further away in the back. Professor McGonagall followed them. Harry stood on the footstool, and almost immediately, a tape started to dance around him, measuring everything by itself. He turned his head to look at the other boy. The other boy was, not surprisingly, taller than him, and he had light brown hair that laid flat on his head. When he turned to look at him, Harry noticed that the other had blue eyes.

"Hello," the other boy said. "I'm Theo. And you are?"

Harry jumped slightly at being addressed. "I'm Harry." He mumbled.

"So are you going to Hogwarts too? I'm assuming you'll be a first year." Theo said.

"Yeah, I'm going to Hogwarts too. Will you be in first year too?" Harry asked, slightly more confident.

However, Theo didn't get a chance to reply as Madam Malkins bustled up to him and told him he could go. She turned to Harry and asked, "What colour would you like your normal robes to be in?"

He answered, "Green or black please."

She nodded happily. "You can get down from the stool now. When you go to the till to pay, they should be there waiting for you."

He thanked her then walked to the till. "I was told that my robes would be here?" he asked.

"Would they happen to be the set of Hogwarts robes and the green and black casual ones?" the kindly witch at the counter asked him.

He nodded timidly.

"That'll be 10 galleons please."

He handed ten of the golden coins over, and received the bag of clothes and a receipt. When he turned around, he saw the Professor standing behind him. He flinched slightly, but looked up at her.

"Let's move on." Was all she said.

Two hours later, they were standing outside Ollivander's. Harry had a black ebony trunk with his initials carved in silver on the front. It had three compartments; a normal one for putting his clothes and other stuff in, a library compartment, and another smaller one that could fit twenty potion vials and had a bit of space for ingredients. He put his cauldron, clothes, parchment, ink, and quills into the main compartment. He also put the telescope and the scales in there, whereas the potion ingredients and vials went into the potions compartment. He had decided to get an owl, and chose a snowy owl, who as yet, didn't have a name. He had a cage, and some bowls for food and water. They had then decided to go to the bookshop before getting his wand. He had got all of the required books, as well as quite a few others, including, but not limited to, the 'Ingredient Encyclopaedia', 'The Book of Charms and Spells', 'Curses and Counter-Curses', 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts', and 'Hogwarts, A History'. Professor McGonagall had also recommended some books on law, which would help him when he came into his Lordships.

So now they were standing in front of the shop, which declared in peeling gold letters above the door, Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A bell rang somewhere in the shop as Harry pushed the door open. The shop was tiny, except for a small, spindly chair that neither of them sat on.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice uttered. Harry jumped, but the Professor showed no surprise. And old man was stood before him, white wispy hair floating around his head and wide, pale eyes like moons observing him.

"Hello," Harry said quietly.

"Yes, I thought I would be seeing you soon, Harry Potter. And so extraordinary, as well." The old man shook his head, as if to clear it. "You have your mother's eyes. Her first wand, made of willow, ten and a quarter inches long, and swishy. A wand well suited to charm work."

Harry filed away that fact and noted that he said that it was her first wand as Mr Ollivander moved closer. The man had yet to blink.

"The wand that chose your father, because ultimately, the wand chooses the wizard, was different. Made of mahogany, and eleven inches long. Pliable, and an excellent wand for transfiguration."

Mr Ollivander was now only an inch away from Harry. He raised a finger to touch the lightening bolt scar.

"And that's where… I sold the wand that did that. Yew, thirteen and a half inches. Very powerful, and in the wrong hands… If I'd known what it was going out into the world to do…"

Luckily for Harry, he noticed Professor McGonagall.

"Professor McGonagall! It's good to see you again. Fir, nine and a half inches, rather rigid, was it not?"

"Yes, it was." She answered.

He turned back to Harry. "Well, Mr Potter." He produced a tape measure with silver markings from his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right handed." Harry replied.

"Hold out your arm." The tape measure began to measure him from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around his head, all by itself. As it was measuring, he said, "All Ollivander wands have a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Potter. We primarily use unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers, and dragon heartstrings. No two wands are ever the same, just as no two creatures are ever exactly the same. Of course, you will never get quite the same effect with another wizard's wand."

Ollivander had been flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes while speaking. He flicked his hand and the tape measure dropped to the floor.

"Right then Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches, flexible. Just give it a wave."

However, as soon as Harry had taken it, Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hand.

"No. Try this – maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches"

Harry had barely touched it before it was taken from him.

"Ebony, unicorn hair. No, not that one. Rowan, phoenix feather. No, not that one either."

Harry just stood there, confused. He had no idea what Mr Ollivander was waiting for, and the pile of the wands he had tried just got higher and higher.

However, Mr Ollivander didn't seem to be worried. Instead, he seemed to be happy.

"Tricky customer, aren't you." He abruptly stopped and gently pulled out a box.

"I wonder…" he murmured. "An unusual combination, but… Yes. Holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches, nice and supple. Here you go."

Harry gently took it from him. Suddenly, he felt a rush of warmth go through him, and blue, green and gold sparks shot from the wand. Professor McGonagall clapped, and Mr Ollivander said,

"Well done! But very curious, very curious indeed. " He continued muttering, even as he put the wand back in its box and wrapped it up.

"Sorry," Harry said. "But what's curious?"

Mr Ollivander looked at Harry with his pale eyes. "I remember every wand I have ever sold, and it just so happens that the phoenix feather in your wand came from a phoenix who donated one other feather. And that other feather went into the wand that gave you that scar."

In the background, Harry heard the Professor gasp.

"Thirteen and a half inches, and made of yew. Remember, Mr Potter, that the wand chooses the wizard. We can expect great things from you, after all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things, terrible, but great."

Harry shuddered. He paid Mr Ollivander seven Galleons, and tried to make it look like he wasn't running from the shop.


	8. Chpt 8: McGonagall and the Dursleys

Hello everyone! Did you miss me?

Sorry I've been away for so long. Not only has this chapter been a bitch, but I have been without access to a computer for most of the last two weeks. Otherwise it would have probably been done before now.

It was going to include more things, but I decided that where I cut it was a good place to stop. It is also longer than most of my other chapters, apart from last chapter. I have no idea what happened last chapter, but just be glad you got a long one. Don't expect it to happen more often. Most of my chapters will be under 2,000 words.

Also, sorry if McGonagall's blow up is disappointing. This isn't her actual blow up, she is coming back for more revenge. I won't write it though, you'll probably find out through flashbacks, or mentions of the Dursleys, or perhaps (keyword being perhaps), a newspaper article or two.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. It's saddening, but at least I get to play, even if it doesn't always turn out as well as I hoped it would. Ah well. Without the wonderful JK Rowling, who wrote and created this world, I wouldn't be here sitting at my computer typing this.

Anyway, please enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to review!

P.S Remember, I don't care if your review is positive or negative. I just want to know what you thought of it!

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Once they left the shop, they left the Alley as well. Professor McGonagall paused and looked down at him. She hesitated, as if about to say something.

"Harry," she began. He looked up at her. "Do you want to go back to the Dursleys, or would you like to stay at my house until we find one of your Wizarding relatives?"

He visibly perked up at the thought of not going back to the Dursleys. He wilted again at the thought that he wouldn't be able to get his notebooks. She noticed the wilt, and decided to ask.

"Do you not want to come with me?" She tried to hide her disappointment.

However, he noticed. "No, I would love to go with you. It's just, I have some stuff that's important to me, that I left at the Dursleys."

"But if you had it, then you would want to stay with me?" She asked, just to clarify.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, please."

"Very well. Let's go to my house first, to drop off your stuff, and then we'll go get your stuff from the Dursleys. Hold on to my arm again."

Once again, he felt like he was being pushed through an extremely tight tube, and just as it felt like it was going to suffocate him, it released him. This time, unlike last time, he managed to stay on his feet although he wobbled quite a bit. He looked up and gasped. The Professor's house was a small cottage, and in his opinion, was very pretty. It was small, but two storeys high. It was coloured a typical white, and had a thatched roof. Around the garden, there was a hedge, and there were two rose bushes next to the door. The grass was trimmed nicely, and all the plants were kept in a nice condition. He walked along a stone path to the painted green door with a gold knocker. The Professor was next to him, and opened the door with a touch. The door opened to a hallway, and Harry copied the Professor, taking off his shoes, and then following her into a living room sort of place. She turned to face him.

"There is a spare room upstairs. It's the first room on the right, and it will be your room for now. There is a bathroom further down the corridor, and you may use that. I expect you back down here in 15 minutes."

He quickly turned and ran up the stairs, floating his trunk behind him. She gaped at that, but stayed silent. Perhaps he would tell her.

Harry got to the top of the stairs, and paused for a second, waiting for his trunk to catch up. He quickly looked around, and found the first room on the right. He gasped when he opened it. The walls were painted a light blue colour, and the floor was a dark wood floor. There was a mahogany desk that faced the window which had a perfect view of the black garden. He walked over and looked out for a minute before turning back to look at the rest of the bedroom. The bed was a twin, from what he could see, it was also a dark brown. The sheets were white, and as he ran a hand over them, felt like Egyptian cotton. The duvet was the same, Egyptian cotton, but maroon, and the pillow case matched the duvet. Once he had directed his trunk to the foot of the bed, he slipped out of the door and investigated the bathroom. The tiles were a pale blue, and there was a shower/bath combo. When he had satisfied his curiosity, he went back downstairs, where he found the Professor waiting for him.

"Now Harry," she began, "we can either go to the Dursley's relatives and get your stuff now, or we can visit your magical relatives. I've talked to them and they're willing to take you in. Andromeda is your godfather's cousin, and you are also related to them through your grandmother on your father's side."

Harry thought for a minute before replying shyly, "Can we please go back to the Dursleys? I would rather get it over and done with than drag it out."

She nodded, slightly surprised. "Yes, that's fine. I'll just tell Andromeda to expect us slightly later." She turned to the table, grabbed the quill and jotted down a note. "Ignatius!" she called, and he flinched slightly as a tawny owl flew in through the window. She petted the top of the owl's head slightly, and then murmured, "Can you please bring this to Andromeda Tonks?" Ignatius hooted softly, spread his wings and flew back out of the window. Harry watched it go before turning back to McGonagall.

The Professor gestured for him to follow her out, and once they had reached the end of the path, she held her arm out for him. He gripped her arm slightly less apprehensively, and when he had a firm grip, she turned, and once again, the feeling of being suffocated overwhelmed him. This time when he landed though, he stayed on his feet with only the slightest wobble. He looked around him, and saw that he was on Privet Drive, but hidden behind some trees. Together, they moved out from the trees, and towards number 4.

Harry got more and more nervous with every step he took towards the pristine front door of number 4. By the time they were stood in front of the door and she had knocked, he was almost trembling, but somehow managing to hide it. Soon, the door opened, and he saw his aunt standing there. As soon as she saw who was standing there, she went to yank him inside, but the Professor flung her arm out to stop her.

"I am not returning him. I am here to speak with you and your husband."

"You can take him and never give him back for all I care. Just don't try to give him back when you realise how freaky he is." Petunia spat.

"While I am here to hopefully take him away and never give him back, there are some things I need to discuss with you. Also, I think you will find that we will not want to give him back. He will be somewhere where he is loved, not with scum like you." Harry's head snapped up at the unexpected vitriol in the Professor's tone. His head quickly lowered again however, when he caught the hateful look on his aunt's face.

His aunt glowered. "Very well, come in."

No sooner than they had set foot within the house, she slammed the door behind them. "If you have to talk to us, make it quick. I don't want you freaks staining my house."

The Professor raised an eyebrow. "I have no desire to stay in your house for any length of time. I shall indeed make it brief. Harry, collect everything you need to."

Harry sent one last frightened glance at his aunt before scampering slightly further down the hall to the cupboard. He yanked the door open, and stuck his head in briefly before emerging again holding several notebooks. Hugging them to his chest, he returned to the two women still standing in the hallway. Only after he had returned to the Professor's side, did she enter the living room.

The Professor glanced around the room, and to her surprise, saw no people. There just seemed to be two globs of pink fat on the couches. She turned to Petunia and was about to ask her where her husband was before one of the globs turned around and said,

"Who are you? Pet, what is the meaning of this?"

Petunia drew herself up and said,

"It's those freaks again. Apparently they need to talk to us."

The larger glob began to turn an alarming shade of red.

"Dudley, leave. Go to your room."

The other glob opened its mouth before seeing what colour the bigger glob was. With a huff, it stood up (!) and waddled out of the room. Harry flinched as it passed him, and the Professor glanced down at him sympathetically. They moved forward a bit, further into the room, Petunia going to sit by the glob that was apparently her husband. Professor McGonagall however, took out her wand and quickly cast a cleaning charm on the couch she had chosen however, and gestured for Harry to sit down.

The remaining glob's colour began to deepen when Professor McGonagall took her wand out, and when she cast the charm, it lost it.

"HOW DARE YOU USE THAT FREAKISHNESS INSIDE **MY** HOUSE? I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT! WE TOOK THAT FREAK IN OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF OUR HEARTS, AND THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT US? I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT!"

The Professor calmly waited until it had stopped shouting, and then said, "I am here to discuss your treatment of Harry for the ten years you have had him, and to tell you that I am taking him away, and if I have my way, you will never see him again."

The glob seethed, but uncharacteristically (in Harry's opinion), kept quiet.

She continued. "You have kept him sleeping in a cupboard, and so far as I could see, made him cook at least breakfast and dinner, and so, probably lunch as well. You" and she sneered, "pushed him into the cooker, and so I believe I can add physical abuse to my list. The fact that you denied that he lived here when I first came means that I can likely add emotional abuse to the list as well."

She glanced at Harry to see how he was taking it, and saw that he was shrunk so far into the couch that it looked like he was trying to merge with it. The glob opened its mouth again, likely to go on another rant, so she flicked her wand and sent a silencing charm at him. It tried to shout, only to realise that no one could hear what it was saying. Its colour had deepened so much that the Professor was surprised that it had not had a brain aneurysm yet, if it even had a brain.

"Now. If you have nothing else to say, then I will take my leave. Do not expect to see Harry again."

Without waiting for confirmation, she rose. Harry stood as well, but once he was out of the room, he paused, and screwed up his face in concentration. After a few seconds, he sighed, and his shoulders slumped. He turned to the door where the Professor was waiting. They left the house, and he didn't turn back.

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We should see him meet Andromeda, Ted and Tonks next chapter!

Also, apologies if my characterisation of Harry seems to have changed. Next chapter will see his thoughts about all of this, and a reason for that. Hopefully. Can't make any promises.


	9. Chapter 9: Meeting the Tonks'

Well, here's something. This is the new Chapter 9, the one I am currently working on and that I hope is better than the last. I am so so sorry for not updating this story in months, but my writer's block has been horrendous. Hopefully, I'll be able to kickstart my brain again now that school has started. I'll try to finish this chapter soon. I've also posted a oneshot, just to keep you guys going until I finish this chapter. Thank you so much to those of you who are awesome enough to review! And those who follow and have favourited this.

Thanks for putting up with me. Also for reading. I hope you have fun with this. And please please pretty please with a cherry on top, review!

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Harry lay on his new bed later that evening in the bedroom that was now his. He stared at his new walls, a nice forest green instead of the horrid salmon pink it had been at the Dursleys'. His life had changed so much, in the past few days. Finally, someone wonderful had come to take him away, as he had dreamed of for so long. The only thing he had to remember now was to make sure that they didn't leave him as well.

His new relatives were nice, and wasn't that a strange thought. The bed that he was lying on was comfortable and large, and had new, clean sheets unlike the tatty ones that he had on the small camp cot that he would have outgrown in the next year. Nymphadora, his cousin who preferred to be called Tonks, had helped him to unpack his trunk into the wardrobe and organise his books on his desk. There had been many occasions where she hindered, rather than helped – she turned out to be extremely clumsy, a direct contrast to her mother, who moved fluidly.

Nymphadora's parents, who had told him to call them by their first names, Andromeda and Ted, had given him a warm welcome and made him feel like he was at home. They seemed very nice and normal, but a different normal to the Dursleys', and didn't seem upset when Nymphadora showed him her talent for changing her appearance. It had shocked him at first, when she had changed her hair colour, but after finding out that she was a Metamorphagus, he accepted it. Apparently it was something that was genetic, and came from Andromeda's side of the family, but no one had been one in years. Privately, he thought that the Dursleys' would have hated her more than they hated him, which was saying something.

Professor McGonagall had stayed for little while, and they had all had a cup of tea together, which was brought to them by a creature named Dolrey. And apparently, Dolrey was a house elf. Which were apparently the wizarding equivalent of maids, or as they weren't paid, slaves. He made a mental note to talk to Dolrey sometime about his treatment. He couldn't imagine that the Tonks' would abuse someone, but he also knew from his experience that abusers were very good at pretending to be normal.


End file.
